Re: The Fortune Teller/ The Soldier
While most of his brains were not available to him at the moment, the Soldier knew that he was not really fit for proper company, and he was visibly surprised when she didn't beat a hasty retreat. His sloppy smile went temporarily slack and he moved a step to one side as she progressed forward, only to promptly smack his head into one of the lamp sconces. "Bloody hell. Er, beg your pardon." He rubbed his temple and blinked intently to try to pull himself together. He noticed that she was heading past him, and having correctly managed to work out that he was going the wrong way, he tried to make way for her without success.
He opened his eyes very wide and saw her as something of a jeweled butterfly fluttering toward him on glints of gold as she took his arm. "By Jove. Most kind of you, I say." He turned then, crooking his arm so she might take it. They couldn't move down the damned hallway two abreast, so he let her precede him, though keeping their arms linked was awkward. "Glad to escort you to safety, what?" He chuckled. Despite the accent, which might be associated with someone broad, portly, and with a large gray mustache, he could not have been more than middle age despite all the care lines around his eyes. There were no bars to show his rank.
"Was that all the wailing I heard a while past? I thought someone had stepped on a cat. Best watch your head here, these demmed lamps are perilous." He coughed as he swore. "Beg pardon."